Be a Happily Ever After
by Moony vs. Padfoot
Summary: Harry's fellow classmates start to wonder if there is anything such as a Happily Ever After. 7th year for the originals. RWHG and some HPGW . COMPLETED!
1. The short Duel

**Be a Happily Ever After  
  
Disclaimer: JK's characters and such.  
  
Paddy's story as you can see by the boldness.  
  
**The only sound of the night was the soft bristling of damp fallen leaves as a young man's feet treaded across them. The boy was headed further and further into the graveyard, as if looking for something...or some one. But he was most certainly not there by accident. It was, of course, up to seventeen year old Harry Potter to have a final duel with the Dark Lord Voldemort.  
  
It was the graveyard where the famous Lily and James Potter were buried—and as Voldemort hoped, the next Potter to go. 'How could a boy Harry's age, Harry's size, possibly conquer over the most powerful dark wizard of all time? This was simply a waste of the Dark Lord's time.' As most of his faithful death eaters pondered.  
  
And alas, Harry arrived at the appropriate headstones—it was on Dumbledore's orders that they duel near the graves of Lily and James. Voldemort will be put away in front of them.  
  
With a crack like a whip—a man, (or was it really a human?) with a flat, pale, snakelike face and red slits for eyes appeared out of thin air, behind the gravestones.  
  
"Well, well, Harry Potter," He said in barely a whisper. "Come to be defeated by the Dark Lord again?"  
  
After all the people he murdered, after all the grief he gave all the families of the victims—Voldemort can just stand there, no fear in the world of Harry being there. No fear that he is actually the one- who can finish him off completely.  
  
"What do you mean, again?" Harry replied, hand clutched on his wand in his robe's pocket.  
  
One year had done a lot of damage to the decent wizarding world. As the Ministry of Magic had denied Voldemort's return for an entire year—the dark side of the world seemed to have a head start. With the help of the Order of the Phoenix, however, the losses weren't as great.  
  
Voldemort pulled out a slender wand, as if releasing a sword. "Shall we play?" He said, waving his wand a bit, impatiently.  
  
Of course, Voldemort had had his losses also—though he showed no mercy for those lost. Lucius Malfoy, though in Azkaban, had gone mad with the worst memories he was forced to relive. And Wormtail, who had committed suicide, as he said, 'For the good of our world.'  
  
"As always," muttered Harry. Not showing dislikes, or like, to his opponent. They bowed.  
  
And at exactly the same time as Voldemort yelled, "Avada Kedavra!" Harry bellowed the same.  
  
Instead of the Priori Incantatem kicking in, as Harry and Voldemort's wands shared the same core, the jets of green light hit each other, and bounced off each other. Voldemort and Harry were hit with there own curse.  
  
With a flash of bright green light—both the Dark Lord and the famous Harry Potter were dead.

**You've read it-- you loved it-- now review it.**


	2. The News

**The News  
  
JK's characters, settings, and stuff like that—I don't want to take that from her.  
  
Bold font = Paddy's story  
**  
The Gryffindor Common room was very tense, and quiet that night. The three of them were all sitting in opposite armchairs. Hermione was tapping her fingers on her knees, biting her bottom lip. Ron was staring at the fire, not blinking. Ginny had a Transfiguration book out and she was looking at it, but her eyes weren't moving. Ginny, also, was biting her bottommost lip.  
  
They had been waiting in the now-empty common room for the longest three hours in their entire lives. The clock on the wall chimed thee o'clock (a.m.) when Professor McGonagall came bustling into the room.  
  
Ginny's book fell to the ground, Hermione looked up, and Ron stood up when McGonagall spoke. "Professor Dumbledore would like to see the three of you, and it is very nice of you to wait on Harry like this." She added.  
  
_'Why did Dumbledore want to see them, now? Is Harry back? Is Harry alright? Did he win?'_ Were questions running through Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's minds.  
  
They followed their Professor silently up to the statue that led to Dumbledore's office. "Fizzing Wizbee," She said. The statue sprang alive, and the four of them arrived in front of the door to Dumbledore's office.  
  
When they entered, there were already people in the room—only four vacant chairs, which they sat themselves down in. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all looking worried and confused.  
  
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, but there were other people in there, too. Lupin, Fred and George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were all sitting, quiet, and pale-faced. But no Harry.  
  
_'What, were they all waiting for Harry to return through a Portkey, or something? Or had he—no, Harry's just lost or something. Yeah, that's it, he's lost._' Ron thought, at least until he heard the tone of Dumbledore's voice.  
  
"As we all know very well, Harry Potter had left to do a very brave thing this night," Dumbledore said. The room nodded back at him. "He was to conquer Voldemort, and this he did." The room perked up a bit. "But to do so—he had to make a sacrifice himself." Ginny's eyes widened. "To save our world, and the muggle world, too; Both Voldemort and Harry are—." His voice broke off, and Dumbledore bowed his head. "Dead."  
  
A few tears trickled down Dumbledore's cheek, into his beard. Ginny ran across the room and hugged her crying mother, and sobbed silently into her chest. Hermione, whose eyes started watering the minute they walked in the room, began crying her heart out on Ron's shoulder. Ron patted her reassuringly on the back, his eyes shut.  
  
Mr. Wealsey's eyes were also shut, his jaw tightened, and holding the hand of his wife. Lupin was staring at the floor his jaw muscle also appeared tightened. Fred and George had their foreheads in their hands, eyes shut. But one thing was going through all of their minds. _'Harry's... dead. He's gone. He's never coming back. Ever.'  
_  
The Weasley's (and Hermione) felt as if they lost a family member, Lupin, as if he lost another best friend. The room was filled with sniffs and sobs.  
  
"I am sorry this has happened, and I know we all wish Harry our best," Dumbledore concluded, looking at all of them, Ginny now sobbing in her hands. "Now I think we should all get back to our lives. Goodnight."  
  
Mrs. Weasley gave them all a big hug before the five of them left. Professor McGonagall escorted the three back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione, still looking teary.  
  
Ginny couldn't take anymore, "G'night. As if it's good," she muttered, and hugged the both of them, and ran up to her dormitory, not wanting to talk.  
  
Hermione sat down on one of the couches in front of the coals of the fire and began to sob into her hands. Harry was dead, there was no more, and he won't be coming back.  
  
Ron just stood there for a moment, thinking, determined not to cry. He went over and put his arm around Hermione, who began saying in-between sobs, "Ron," she sniffed. "Ron, he's- he's-..." She couldn't go on. _Why did they have to loose a best friend, now?_  
  
"I know," Ron put both of his arms around her, her sobs slowed down.  
  
"I'm sorry," She said, getting up. "'Night, Ron."  
  
"It's ok," said Ron, also getting up. They both went up to bed without another word.  
  
He would not cry; he could not cry. Ron had his face planted into a pillow, letting the nights events sink in. It was nice that all the trouble with You-Know-Who was over, but a dead best friend was worst than the troubles. Now he knows how Lupin felt. For he was crying.  
  
Ron didn't notice that Neville's snores had slowly stopped, until, "Ron?"  
  
Neville Longbottom's head peeked through Ron's curtains. Ron looked up very quickly and he wiped his eyes off with his sleeve. "Ron?" Neville repeated. "Why were you crying?" "I wasn't crying," said Ron stubbornly. "Besides, it's none of your business, anyway."  
  
"Yeah," Neville said sarcastically, "Sure."  
  
"Why are you up at this time, anyway?"  
  
He shrugged." Dunno, but it was perfect timing in my dream, though. Hey—is Harry back yet?"  
  
Ron sat up and took a gulp, "No."  
  
"Hear anything about it from Dumbledore?"  
  
"Yeah, I did. Hermione and Ginny, too."  
  
"Well?" Neville smiled and looked eager.  
  
Ron hesitated for a moment and did not make eye contact with him. "He beat You-Know-Who."  
  
Neville punched the air. "Yes! But—why isn't Harry back?"  
  
Ron lay back down and hid his face. It was so hard to tell Neville this—almost as hard as taking the news himself. But not as hard as accepting it. "Neville—Harry's dead."  
  
Neville's eyes, much like Ginny's, grew very wide, and he was blinking more than normally. _'Harry? Dead? A' course not—he's just trying to make me look like a fool...'_ "D-d-d-dead? No—No—Harry isn't, he's not, can't be..." Neville began muttering very quickly, taking his grip off of the curtain.  
  
Ron turned back around to face him, eyes still a bit wet—but not as visible in the dark. "Neville," he said, opening up his bed curtains. "Harry is dead. I'm serous."  
  
But he wouldn't believe him, he _couldn't_! Harry was the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts, how could they just _both_ be dead? How could such a thing occur?  
  
"No," muttered Neville again, to stubborn to believe it true, shaking his head. "No, Ron. You're mad—Harry, can't be—be dead."  
  
This annoyed Ron greatly. He was already mad at the world for Harry's death—and having to tell the same person it three times wasn't very enjoyable. "Neville I told you already!" He yelled, making no effort to lower his voice. "Harry's dead and you're going to have to accept that sometime!" Ron slammed his curtains shut, and he screamed into his pillow, which eventually turned into muffled sobs.  
  
Dean Thomas, a fellow dorm mate of Ron and Neville's, had heard his yells. "Ron? Neville? S'matter?" he said, yawning, and beginning to sit up.  
  
"Nothing, Dean. Go back to sleep," Neville said, sounding as if his nose was stuffed, and got into his own bed.  
  
**You read it—you loved it—now review it.  
  
Don't kill me on how they got to Dumbledore's office; I'm too lazy to look it up in the book. I re-did this one... and added the old chapter 3 to it. xP Don't attack me.**


	3. There’s Something About Sunday Mornings

**There's something about Sunday Mornings  
  
JK's characters, settings, and all of that stuff.   
  
Paddy claims the plot.**   
  
It was a Sunday morning, so Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were free to sleep in. When they all were awake, around noon, there were only 1st and 2nd years inhabiting the common room. Hogsmeade Trip.  
  
Ron spent a good twenty minutes of his morning staring at the same piece of ceiling, thinking. No more fooling around in History of Magic. No more making demented Divination homework. No more playing chess for pleasure. Life without Harry would be really dull. _'On the bright side,'_ Ron tried to think. _'No more getting shunted off to the side when people question Harry.'_ **'But still, no Harry.'** Another voice butted in.  
  
Hermione had got dressed strait away when she got up, and took a seat away from everyone else in the common room. She waited around fifteen minutes when Ron and Ginny sat down next to her, coming from opposite sides of the room.  
  
It was an awkward and tense moment. Each of them wanted to say something to each other about the last night—but each time someone opened their mouth to speak, nothing seemed to come out. They basically sat there, avoiding eye contact, staring at the floor.  
  
"Talk, will you?" Hermione demanded.  
  
"Well, I'm sorry," Ron said sarcastically, focusing hard on the same piece of carpet. Ginny's lips were tight together, and she didn't say anything back to Hermione.  
  
"Oh, come on, Ron; Ginny. We can't just go on being glum like this forever," She attempted.  
  
This didn't help much. "Newsflash, Hermione! Our best friend is dead," Ron said, glancing at her. The few first years near them stared. Ron just glared at them, and they went back to their work.  
  
"You have a certain grasp for the obvious, Ron," Hermione snapped. "But we can't just mourn for him forever! We have to go on sometime!" Hermione's eyes started to water.   
  
"Hermione, we all aren't _ready_ to go on, you've realized that, I hope. We just found out that he—you know—last night."  
  
"So...?"  
  
"Hermione! That isn't enough time for one person to get adjusted to that sort of thing!"  
  
"It may not be for you-."  
  
"Oh, sure. I'm _positive_ you're taking this all fine and dandy, right?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
At this, Ginny looked up at Hermione. "Be sensible, 'Mione," she said very quietly.  
  
Hermione took a second of consideration of this. "Fine," She said stiffly. The first years near them had all eyebrows raised, eavesdropping intently.  
  
"Mind your own business, will you?" Hermione snapped at them, pointing at her 'Head Girl' badge. In fear of detention, they scurried off to the other end of the common room.  
  
"Come on," Ginny said, still in the quiet voice that was much unlike her own. "Let's go in Ron's dormitory. We won't be eavesdropped in there."  
  
They managed to continue up there without complaint from Ron.   
  
"And..." Ron said, looking plainly at Hermione.  
  
"And what?" She chuckled.   
  
"Hermione!" He said. "Can I ask you a question?"  
  
Hermione looked at him awkwardly. "And what would that be?"  
  
"How do you feel about –you know—what happened to Harry?"  
  
Ginny smiled. This was going to be good.  
  
"And if I refuse?"  
  
"We all won't live a good life," He said simply.  
  
"And this will help us...?"  
  
"Get over this problem within a month." Ginny butted in.  
  
The room was quiet for a moment, and then Ron kicked his bedpost, hard.  
  
"And what was that for?" Hermione said very quickly.  
  
"Take a guess, Hermione, one simple little GUESS!" He kicked the post again. The bed rattled.  
  
Hermione gave up the 'pretend nothing really happened' plan, and went to plan B. Which didn't seem to work out so well with Ron, either. "Ron," she moaned, walking towards him. "We haven't been taking this whole ordeal so perfect ourselves." Hermione was talking about herself and Ginny. "And we understand that you aren't taking it well, also. But at least try to work with us and live through the rest of your life _happy_." She expected Ginny to follow along, but Hermione's wording didn't suit her.  
  
"What do you mean, 'we?'" Ginny demanded, teary eyed, and she ran back to her own dormitory.   
  
"Right now I'm not willing to live the rest of my _pitiful_ life _happy_," Ron said, sitting on his bed. "Or maybe you haven't noticed, Hermione. Our _best_ friend—is dead. He's gone." Ron's eyes were widening and getting a little bit wetter with each sentence. "Harry's not coming back, Hermione. Not tonight, not when we wake up tomorrow. Don't you understand this? We're not _going_ to see his live face again, smiling, and happy. We're not _going_ to have life's best adventures with him. We're never _going_ to—congratulate Harry on defeating You-Know-Who. We're never _going_ to graduate Hogwarts with him. Our best friend, _never_ got to graduate from a proper school. He never got to have, one of the entirely _real_ summers that we enjoy. He never had a _real_ family, Hermione!" At the end of this, Ron flopped onto his bed moodily.  
  
Hermione didn't dare interrupt Ron during his little 'speech.' She looked like she was going to cry, though. "Oh Ron, get up," she moaned at him again.   
  
"Only if you stop playing as the counselor," Ron said and turned his back on her.  
  
"You know very well I was just acting," her voice was getting more quivery. Ron ignored her. "Ronnn," she whined.  
  
After a minutes of persuasion, Ron was sitting up on the side of his bed next to Hermione. "Well?"  
  
Hermione was trying her best not to cry again. "I _know_ we won't see Harry again, and I _know_ we'll never talk to him again, OK?" A tear ran down her face. "Ron look at me!"  
  
He turned his face, which revealed a sad, freckled face with watery eyes. As quickly as he showed Hermione his face, he turned it back around.  
  
"We can't just live the rest of our life_ mourning_ over Harry, Ron. Not for the rest of our life we'll be miserable," she predicted. More tears fell off her eyelids. "But for now—it's the perfect plan."  
  
Hermione could hear Ron crying, but didn't dare make him look at her again. She had never see Ron cry.   
  
It would have been the opposite of perfect if one of Ron's dorm mates walked in on them at the moment. It was a pretty sad sight. Ron, facing a wall, crying in spite of his best friend; and Hermione, sitting right next to him, tears falling down her face.   
  
Hermione reached out a hand and put it on Ron's warm shoulder. "Ron?" He turned around looking at her in question. "Can you promise me something?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"We lost Harry, but—promise me I won't have to loose you."  
  
Ron smiled slightly. "A' course not."  
  
He put his arms around her, and she brought him closer to her in an embracing hug. The hug lasted a good 12 seconds, but—before either one of them knew what they were doing, Ron's lips were touching Hermione's. They jumped apart, avoiding eye contact.  
  
"See you," Hermione said quietly, and walked out of the room to see where Ginny had gone off to.  
  
**You read it—you loved it—now review it!  
  
Ok, that was a hard chapter to write. Gahh. So I understand if you don't like it. No flames, though. No flames.**


	4. Dormitory Thoughts

**Chapter Four: The Dormitory Thoughts**

**I wrote this in kind of a hurry, Hurricane Jeanne is coming in around an hour or two, so I couldn't look things up in the books and such. Don't flame me for that. Xx;**

"Ginny?" Sitting at the end of her bed, was Ginny. But from a distance, one wouldn't guess it as Ginny Weasley at all. Her knees were held against her chest held up by her crossed arms, her face was wedged in-between her knees and the space between them and her chest, hair was pushed aside everywhere. She was sobbing silently.

"Ginny?" Hermione said again, resting her palm on Ginny's knee. Ginny jumped, and looked over at Hermione, relieved.

"Oh, it's just you," she said quietly, sounding as if her nose was stuffy. She had a small smile on her face, even though her eyes were red from crying. "Solve Ron's problem?" Ginny wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

A pink tinge made its way across Hermione's cheeks and nose. "A little bit— but he still doesn't want to get over the fact that— that— Harry's dead."

"And that's a problem— why?" Ginny said somewhat moodily, sitting cross-legged, offering a seat to Hermione on her bed. How could she say a thing like that? "Come on, Hermione. Even you can't get over it in twelve hours. I know you can't." She finished quietly, lips pursed.

She, of course, knew that Ginny was right. Hermione took the offer and sat, looking out the window. "And why would you just assume that?"

"Hermione, I've known you for six years. Harry's your best friend. You're not over it."

"How do you know that?" She still didn't make eye contact with Ginny.

Ginny scowled. "Hermione, stop being so stubborn!" She was suddenly very interested in the carpet pattern. "Harry's your best friend, Hermione. You can't just move on when your best friend in the world has just died! You can't just—pretend nothing at all is

different—nothing at all has happened—when someone as important as Harry won't be there when you wake up.

"He won't be at exams, he won't be smiling back at you under the invisibility cloak—he won't be—he won't..." She trailed off, tears falling down her cheeks silently. How dare Hermione say that she has not a care in the world that Harry's dead. How dare she...

Hermione put an arm around Ginny. "It's okay," she whispered. "Ginny, it's going to be O.K." She didn't want Ginny to keep crying like this, because it was making her own eyes water.

But Ginny did not seem to like this kind of comfort at all. Tears still rolling down her face, she shook her head slowly, muttering, "No...no, no it's not. 'Mione it's not going..."

Hermione put both of her hands on Ginny's shoulders, looking strait into her eyes. "Gin," she said firmly. Ginny had helped her realize what she needed to, and yet Ginny could not see that, "It's going to be fine."

Ginny still didn't think that Hermione's words were true, even though she was looking at her through those amber eyes. "No Hermione," she said, her voice more steady, breaking eye contact with her. "No. I don't think I'll ever be fine." Didn't Hermione

understand? Harry was dead! Dead!

"Sure you will, Gin, you will," Hermione said hopefully, not understanding fully what Ginny meant. They were all going to get through this together. But, "I don't think I'll ever be fine," was what affected Hermione more questionably.

"Hermione," Ginny muttered, looking at the ground. "I— I loved him." More tears sped their way down her face, down her neck. Ginny's eyes were growing redder and redder.

Hermione gasped softly, she knew that Ginny fancied Harry years ago, but thought that she had much moved on after that. Although she didn't know the complicity of the pain that Ginny was feeling right now, she had a general idea.

The world was ending to Ginny. She was slipping away. Harry was dead. She would just love to black out with him. But how could this be happening? How could such a good life fail so quickly?

A tear fell down the brunette's face as she hugged Ginny tightly. "You know, Ginny," she said quietly. Hermione was trying her best to understand how Ginny felt. "I've only felt near to how you're probably feeling now once."

She didn't bother waiting for Ginny's reply. "When I was eight, I got a kitten for my birthday," more tears were rolling down her cheeks as if she were reliving the event. "I named her Ashleigh, because I thought that name was pretty and delicate." Of course, only Hermione would use such vocabulary in a time like this. "Ashleigh got," she paused for a moment, "run over by a car two weeks later. I saw it happen."

Ginny let Hermione's words wash over her. She didn't care what she had to say. She could never know how she felt right now! She could never even get close to the feeling of lost, confusion, sadness, and anger that she was going through now.

But Hermione kept talking, "The good thing to think about all this is that Harry died for the good of this world. He didn't die in shame, he died as a hero. Now we know it's all over. We can sleep soundly in our beds at night now. The only question left is how..."

This was far from easing Ginny's thoughts. She stood up so quickly that Hermione was startled by such quick movement.

"Hermione, just-" she said, "just go." And Ginny laid, face down on her bed, not saying another word.

Hermione hesitated for a moment. She wanting to say one last thing to Ginny, but couldn't work the words out on how she wanted them to sound. She wanted to tell Ginny that all would be well, that they all would make it through all of this, that she would still be her friend no matter what, but the words wouldn't come out of her mouth.

She stood outside Ginny's dormitory room door, tears slowly falling down her cheeks. She knew Ginny was right. He was never coming back. He wasn't going to be there again.

Instead of walking back down to the Common Room, she ran up to her dormitory, hoping no one would inhabit it. Hermione wanted some time to herself. Some time to think. Some time to analyze all of this.

When she opened the dormitory door, Lavender and Pavarti were whispering to each other, and stopped when they saw Hermione enter the room. When she did, the two of them decided they were better off whispering to each other somewhere else, and walked out of the room, staring at Hermione.

Hermione took no notice of their odd behavior, however, they were always gossiping over one thing and another. She took a seat on her bed and gazed out of the window, not a thought in her mind, eyes and face damp from the tears.

The question that was bothering her would surely haunt her in her dreams; but how, how could Harry have died? How could Dumbledore's shrewd idea have been so wrong?

She could remember the night when Dumbledore assigned Harry to the mission, believing in him one-hundred percent. She didn't know it then, but that night was the last night she would ever see Harry.

After speaking with the three of them about the event, he asked to speak to Harry alone.

When Harry emerged from Dumbledore's sure-to-be-'pep talk,' he didn't say a word of what just had happened, but walked up to the common room with them to get good lucks, and good wishes.

And yet he still died.

But...how?

**You read it-- You loved it-- Now review it!**


	5. Now

**Chapter 5: Now.**

But why would Dumbledore do that? Did he _purposely_ do this to Harry? Was he aware of the consequences of this?

Numerous answerless questions swarmed within Hermione's thoughts. She ignored the world around her as she sat on her bed, gazing into nothingness.

Hermione had grown attached to Harry after the years. They were like brother and sister, and not only were their friendship shattered, but their lives were also. Anyone who knew Harry seemed to have a shattered heart now.

She sat up very quickly. What did that secret talk between Harry and Dumbledore mean? What did Dumbledore say to him?

Hermione's heart was pounding, and her eyes watering. She was blinking furiously, _was this the key to it all?_

Or did that, just mean nothing at all? Perhaps Dumbledore just want to personally wish Harry luck, and good health. But couldn't he have done that in front of herself and Ron?

Ron heard someone pounding on the dormitory door as if their life depended on it. "Leave me alone," he hollered at the door, turning over in his bed. Ron was in a very apathetic phase; he'd lie on the bed and just stare across the room, thinking of nothing in particular.

Hermione walked right in anyway. She couldn't talk to Ginny right now, she need to talk to Ron, to ask him.

"What do you want?" mumbled Ron.

"I need to ask you something," said Hermione. She didn't wait for Ron to answer, but continued, "Before Harry—left, did he say anything about what Dumbledore told him?" Hermione sat down on the bed opposite of Ron, sitting cross-legged and looking at his back, which was the only visible part of him, aside his red hair and legs.

Now this was a queer question. Why'd she want to know that for? "No," Ron said skeptically. "Why?"

She shook her head, "Oh nothing. It's just—nothing."

Ron pretended that he just didn't hear her. "Why?" he said again.

This time, Hermione hesitated; she looked from Ron, to the window, to the floor, then back to Ron again. "I—I just wanted to know... is all." She didn't really want him to get all concerned and frustrated, because she knew that, if he knew, he would be.

"Yeah well," Ron said, remembering that he didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment. "I haven't gotten any sleep praktly all weekend, so I'd appreciate it if you left so I might get an hour's worth before classes tomorrow." He rolled over, and pretended to be asleep once more.

Hermione opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but she changed her mine and shut it. She wouldn't be able to ask him anything else, now at least. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to get one of her friends cross with her.

Ron heard the door shut behind her, and he rolled around again, and again. He didn't really plan on going to sleep. He didn't really know what he wanted right now. Ron couldn't help but to dwell on what Hermione had asked him. She was hiding _something _from him, and he knew that very well. But for right no Ron's main goal is to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The three friends all had themselves an uneasy sleep. That night woke them up, because most Gryffindors were in the Common Room celebrating Harry's defeat.

Ginny tossed and turned in her sleep, which was filled with many unsettling dreams. Com on, she was sixteen; nightmares couldn't bother her that much now. Yet age isn't a factor to be afraid of what was going through Ginny's mind. She felt almost hollow. Her life was over completely.

Hermione tossed in her bed and determidly kept her eyes squeezed shut. She had tantalizing dreams; it was her first night of almost-solid sleep all weekend. And she wasn't sure she was going to feel refreshed in the morning.

Ron squinted through his eyes, and sunshine obscured his vision, as he squeezed his eyes shut again and groaned. Morning already? Even though he slept for almost a day's worth, he felt exhausted. He got dressed as his other dorm mates were already grabbing their bags and going down to breakfast.

He was surprisingly quiet all through breakfast, sitting between an equally quiet Ginny and Hermione. They were just looking at their plates, not catching eyes with anyone. Particularly Neville, who was sitting across from Ron and looking at him after every other spoonful of porridge.

"Ron? Ron? Come on, say _something_ to me." Neville scowled just as the bell rang, and Ron got up to leave, Hermione following him, Ginny walking more to the right of them, joining up to talk to Luna. Or just stand by her.

The day seemed to drag on for eternity. Ron had no one to fool around with in today's History of Magic lesson, which seemed even more tiring than usual. No partner for Divination, (he passed the O.W.L, not knowing how) so Trelawney teamed with him, telling him that she had foreseen Harry's death many months before.

Ron kept his mouth shut all day, anyway. Only talking when he was spoken to by a Professor, and he was surprised that no one else were talking to him. All he got were odd glances. He could feel people's eyes on him, but when he turned to look at them, they pretending their eyes never wandered there at all.

Neville was talking to him anyway, knowing that Ron wasn't going to reply. "You know, there was a feast last night for Harry's defeat. Dumbledore said, ooh, let me get at least most of the words right, 'That some of his close friends,' he didn't say any names, or anything, 'may be in grief, and you shouldn't try to badger them.' So what do you think?"

Ron didn't say anything, at first. "Dumbledore doesn't know anything," he mumbled, then quickened his pace as he neared the Common Room.

Neville stopped walking completely, stunned in thought. What had Ron meant? Was he not loyal to Dumbledore anymore? Or was he just going through a phase, or, something?

Ron blundered into the Common Room, and took a corner seat, away from everyone. He took out his quill, ink, and a piece of parchment, and began on his History of Magic homework without complaint.

Just as he wrote his name across the top, Hermione came over and sat next to him. "What do you want?" He said without looking away from his work.

"Come with me," Hermione said quietly, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of his seat, making his wrist crack.

Ron's papers went across the rug as he was pulled from the chair. He looked at Hermione with a scowl like he was about to say something, but then closed his mouth, he changed his mind. Hermione had pulled him to the entrance to the stairs leading up to the girl's dormitories. And she knew boys weren't allowed up there.

"Why'd you bring me here?" He asked, with an expression as if he questioned Hermione's sanity.

Hermione just brushed a lock of her brown hair behind her ear as she sighed exasperatedly. "Just wait here," she said, running up the stairs as if she was in some sort of rush.

He was just clueless. Why the—

He had to hold that thought, because Hermione was coming down the stairs practically dragging a stubborn Ginny alongside her.

"Now can you tell me what the _hell_ are you doing?" Ron asked, still with the expression as if he questioned her sanity.

"We're going to Dumbledore."

"Now?"

"Now." She started walking to the portrait hole. Ginny and Ron exchanged looks, Ginny shrugged and followed after her. Ron, still wondering what was going on in Hermione's mind, followed suite.

**Wow. Now I hope you all liked that, because I had to listen to my mom's Clay Aiken CD about three times to get that Chapter to go down into the computer.**

**You read it—You loved it—Now review it!**


	6. Dumbledore's Advice

Chapter 6: Dumbledore's Advice

As I have stated many times before, I don't want to be making cash off of this. 'Cause they're Joanne Rowling's and I'm alright with that.

Still by Padfoot

Now, I don't like this fic at all as I re-read it. Well, I can say that I like some parts, but overall I do not enjoy how this fic came out. I feel like most of my characters are out of character. I will still update, of course, because the next chapter after this is going to be the last, and for those of you who do enjoy reading this, I'm sure you want to finish it. I also want to finish this to rub in Moony's face that I finished a mutli-chapter fic for once. So tata. 'Bye. Good day.- Padfoot

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"But Hermione, he's the _headmaster_," complained Ron. "He's probably busy right now. Dumbledore doesn't have time for us."

"Yeah," agreed Ginny, jogging to keep up with Hermione.

"Well he'll have to _make time_, won't he?" said Hermione.

As they approached the long gargoyle, there were already stairs leading up to Dumbledore's office. It took a few seconds to comprehend, but there was someone traveling down those very same steps. Ron caught Hermione's eye and gave her a why-did-you-drag-me-into-this kind of look.

Albus Dumbledore was ambling down the stairs and humming a tune absent-mindedly. When he caught sight of Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, he smiled. "Ah," Dumbledore said. "I knew you three were going to want a word with me, I just never knew when…" He trailed off.

"Yes," began Hermione. "We have been wanting to talk to you, Professor." Ron elbowed her hard on her side. "Err—_I _did."

"Hmm," Dumbledore looked over them, as if he were interested in the painting across the corridor. "Come to my office, you three."

They followed him up to his hidden office and sat down in the three chairs facing his desk.

"So," he started off, slapping his hands on his desk. "I think we should get strait to the facts; why did you come here?"

Ginny and Ron didn't say anything, as they didn't have a clue as why Hermione wanted them there with her. "Well," Hermione said, her voice quavering as if she was nervous to say it. "I wanted to know…I wanted to know, what you said to Harry when you said you wanted a private word. And, erm…and, I, wanted a err—better explanation as to how, how…"

Dumbledore cut her off, "Ah yes, that." He closed his eyes, as if he were deep in thought. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that, I don't really enjoy telling the tale, but I cannot deny you." His eyes opened again, and as he spoke they traveling from Hermione, to Ron, to Ginny. "Well, I told him specifically that I believed a force none of us can imagine inside of him, was what might hold this defeat.

"I asked him if he truly wanted to go through with this. I told him he didn't have to do it now, it would end with the same results anytime; and that he shouldn't go through with something like this that he really isn't sure of.

Harry told me wrong. He said, as he had many times before, that he wanted to finally duel with Voldemort." Ron and Ginny winced, while Hermione watched him with an expressionless face.

Dumbledore heaved a heavy sigh, but then continued, "Somehow he thought Avada Kedavra would do the trick. Both of them said it at the same time." He took a sigh again. "The curses reflected each other, and hit the owner of the wand that conjured it."

Ron was shaking his head slowly. "But—how?" he mumbled quietly, barely any noise coming from his mouth. "How?"

"Why couldn't you have told Ron and me that?" Hermione questioned aloud.

"I supposed he would tell you," he answered, and made a soft chuckle. It was true; he did suppose that Harry would tell his two best friends, at least, what he had just told him.

"Well he didn't," spoke up Ron, his voice sounding much harsher than he meant it to. "So how do we know you're really telling the truth?"

Dumbledore paused, looking at Ron. "If any of the three of you don't believe what I am telling you, by all means, you can leave my office." None of them moved from their seats. "Thank you," he smiled feebly, but the other three just looked at him, unblinking, and waiting.

"I'm not exactly sure how any of this happened, and I'm sure if any of you three were in my position, you would do the same as I am doing now," he paused for a second, took a breath, and then continued, "I don't understand exactly how this happened, and I assure you, that I am telling you all that I can."

Ron was looking a bit skeptical about all of this, but he was forced to believe Dumbledore. Dumbledore had never lied to them.

"I think we should all try and get our lives back to as normal as possible; come back to me if you have any other questions," he finished, getting up and walking over to his cupboards as if he were mainly interested in one of the books on the shelves.

Ron got up to leave, and so did Ginny. Hermione just sat in her chair, eyeing the ground and thinking. "You coming?" Ron mumbled to Hermione, as he and Ginny began to walk out of his office.

"Yeah, yeah, you go, I'll catch up," she said offhandedly. Ron and Ginny were already on their way out when she finally stood up.

"Goodbye for now, Professor," she mumbled before following the footsteps of her friends.

Ginny and Ron were right by the entrance to Dumbledore's office, waiting for Hermione to emerge. They all silently made their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, until Ron broke the silence, "Are you happy now? We talked to Dumbledore."

"Well, I was hoping he'd tell us more," Hermione began, but was cut off by Ginny muttering the password and going through the portrait hole, followed by Ron and Hermione.

"I'm going to sit on my bed," Ron announced, not really wanting to hear the remainder of Hermione's answer.

In the dormitory, Ron threw himself onto his bed, on his side, facing what was Harry's bed. He just laid there for awhile, his eyes closed, thinking. He was angry. Why did Harry have to leave them like this? Ron stood up beside his bed, and took Harry's pillow up in his hands, and threw it across the room.

When he looked at what was under the pillow, however, he gasped and picked it up.

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**You read it—You loved it—Now review it!**

Ahaha. Cliffhanger. Aren't I mean? - Padfoot


	7. The Message and The End

Chapter 7: The Message and The End

All Jo's stuff.

Padfoot's big finale.

This chapter- sucks. Let's put it that way. I'm happy because it's an end to how I used to write. Which was terrible. I'm better now, and I know it. I don't like how thereasonofthecliffhangerbutyoudon'tknowthatyet turned out. Blah. I hate that too. Oh! I also want to add, I **DO NOT** think that this is how the books are going to end. I just thought that it would be interesting to write. - Padfoot

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Ron was holding a folded piece of parchment labeled with _his name_. Why was there a letter under Harry's pillow labeled 'Ron Weasley?' Still in shock, he fumbled with his fingers to open the letter.

In scribbling letters, Harry's handwriting read:

_ Hey Ron,_

_ Well, I'm probably reading this with you, so you better laugh along with me as you read this. Unless you want to not be spoken to for a week. If I'm not, then, well, I'm not._

_ You see, the chance that I won't be reading this with you is the reason why I wrote this. I wrote this because; if I don't come back, well, I have a few things to say._

_ One- I better have killed Voldemort, and if I didn't, then, you know I'm gonna wish you all the best. _

_ Two- I hope you find this, Ron, and when you do, show it to Hermione, Ginny, and the Order members. Dumbledore mostly._

_ Three- If I am gone, then, I left a hero. Remember that. _

_ Four- Ron loves Hermione. HA!_

_ I'm going to miss you all terribly, but remember, it's not really goodbye. You'll see me again. Don't commit suicide, Ron. _

_ Best wishes,_

_Harry Potter_

_ P.S. I'll say hi to Sirius for all of you_

Ron was stunned. He didn't blink, nor did he move. The only sound was those of the pitter-patter of rain. It seemed like pure luck that he found the message at that time. At the same time that he questioned the matter of living anymore. Harry wrote this. He wrote this with the same energy and love that Ron knew him as. Ron had to show Hermione.

Ron stuffed the piece of parchment into his robe pocket, and ran out into the Common Room. He looked around wildly, but no bushy brown hair was in sight. Ginny was sitting on a chair in the far right corner, reading a large book with a gloomy look on her face.

"Ginny," he said, dashing up to her. "Have you seen Hermione?"

Ginny put her book down and nodded. "She said she wanted to go outside and look at the lake, or something. She left about ten minutes ago."

He patter her and thankfully and was off. Ginny just smiled slightly and returned to her book.

Out on the grounds, it was beginning to get wet. The sprinkle of rain had been drenching the school for awhile now, and the little drops would stick onto the grass blades like morning dew.

And there she was. Sitting in front of the lake water's edge, was the brown-haired figure that was Hermione Granger. Ron rushed up to her. He sat down next to her, and without even looking at Hermione's face, he could tell that she was crying.

"When will the pain go away?" She seemed to ask the world in her faint whisper. Hermione turned her head away from his own.

"Well, I can't answer that," Ron cleared his throat. "I don't think the pain will ever go away," he gulped, and his hand found hers, "but read this. I just found it."

Hermione took Harry's letter. It was awhile before she finished, she had to have re-read it at least three times. The wait for Ron nearly killed him. There was a lump in his throat that seemed to not want to go away.

She looked back at him, stuffing the note in her pocket as to protect it from the rain. The rain was coming down so heavily now, that Ron could not tell rain from teardrops.

"Is this true?" she whispered.

Ron nodded, "It's his signature at the bottom, isn't it? This might just turn out to be a happily ever after, after all."

They leaned in and gave each other their first true kiss.

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**You read it—You loved it—Now review it!**

**THE END!**


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